Doctor Who- Geek & Holmes
by Kgdragoon
Summary: The future has recreated the past, but along with it came Jack the Ripper, one even deadlier than the original. When the Doctor, Clara, and company are stranded in this unforgiving future, they must work together with one Sherlock Holmes to uncover the Ripper's deadly secrets before they become the next victims.
1. Omna's Announcement

[The Doctor looked up at the crowd, her resolve was unshakable, her eyes were fixed and calm; no one would sway her. As her gaze drifted over the mob they became acutely uncomfortable, feeling like misbehaving children caught in the act, and one by one they started to drop their stones.

Then a sharp grey pebble materialized from the crowd, hitting the Doctor. She stumbled and was momentarily disoriented.

"This is our justice"]

_The words were typed out deliberately, letter by letter._

_Oops, how does this thing work again? Darn..._

_"Oh well, it's only the rough draft anyway," the narrator said to himself as he fiddled with the uncooperative typewriter_

_After several tries he got the infernal device to work and started typing out a Very Important Announcement that he feels you should read:_

* * *

><p><strong>Important Announcement<strong>:

This is the second story in a series and follows "Doctor Who- The Invasive Amnesia". But don't worry, a quick recap can help you catch up!

Previously on Doctor Who- The Invasive Amnesia…

The city of Roswell, New Mexico was invaded by aliens (no really, it's not a joke). But alas, the residents mostly don't remember anything as the invading aliens used a mixture of memory gas and electromagnetic devices to erase the signs of their presence. (Mostly) short-term amnesia spread through the city, residents were left generally forgetful, unable to remember anything for more than a few seconds at a time, they wandered around aimlessly. All technology was knocked out by the electromagnetic devices, leaving a darkened, confused Roswell to fend for itself.

After the event, some citizens retained pieces of their memory. And though there may not be concrete evidence, Roswell residents are content with the new additions to their extraterrestrial lore.

Meanwhile… Clara was sent from a parallel dimension to warn the Doctor of the World Devourers, creatures that consume entire universes… and the same creatures that ended hers. But shortly after, both the Doctor and Clara were captured by the aliens invading Roswell, and the Doctor almost died. As he was regenerating a human girl unwittingly interrupted the process, trying to help the injured man she only worsened the situation and the Doctor was left apparently dead. A distraught Clara was left alone, believing she had lost everything once again; she escaped the ship and determined to wreak vengeance on the aliens.

Later the Doctor woke up in a deserted alley with no memories, having regenerated into a white haired version of the girl that had tried to help him. Sporting a strange appearance and an even stranger personality, the Doctor walked around without purpose until she witnessed a kidnapping, which then led to her encounter with four college boys. The students were looking into the disappearance of a friend: a girl who had been taken by the aliens. Together they found the Tardis and an unconscious Clara,;shortly after, the four boys were themselves kidnapped by the aliens and it was left to an amnesiac Doctor and disoriented Clara to save them. But they were too late. Jin, Will, and Peter had all been sent through time and space as part of the aliens' experiments, and the Doctor was barely in time to rescue Gage, Will's twin brother.

As Clara sabotaged the alien ship, Gage went to rescue the aliens' prisoners, and the Doctor encountered Siv'Irai, a member of the psychic race of aliens called the Ra'hi, and also a prisoner of the aliens. She had been forced to act as their interrogator to spare her sister's life, but unbeknownst to her, her sister had already decided to join the ones that had kidnapped and imprisoned them.

Gage left with the prisoners, the Doctor sent the aliens back to their own time, and everyone escaped the ship. Gage, Siv, and Clara decided to join the Doctor in her quest to locate and rescue all the victims of the alien experiments, lost throughout time and space…

Sincerely, your

Omniscient Narrator

(or Omna, for short)

* * *

><p><em>The Omniscient Narrator threw his typewriter against the wall, he could understand wanting to add an old-fashion, nostalgic feel to the writing, but this was just ridiculous. These machines were impossible, and using one while living in the age of computers was silly. What did the writer want from him, a miracle? <em>

_ Then he looked up, and wondered why all his scenes were written in italicized font. And why he was constantly referred to as 'him' or 'Omniscient Narrator', his name was Omna, and he was neither a 'he' nor a 'she'. And he would like for you to remember that_, thank you very much.__


	2. Lamplighter

Day was slowly progressing towards night; the sky awash with oranges, pinks, purples, and the ever-present multitudes of blue. In the far horizon darkness was just setting in, and stars could already be seen through the wispy clouds. It was this time every day when the lamplighters set to work, going from lamppost to lamppost, lighting the candles inside. But today the lamplighters worked more swiftly than usual, sometimes even burning themselves in their haste. This trend hadn't started in a day; it had started weeks ago, when the first killings began. Jack the Ripper was back.

Lydia was dressed like a boy; she was a street urchin, just like all the other lamplighters in the area. Most places employed officials to keep the street lamps lit and looked after. Other areas had gone further and set the gas posts on timers which only occasionally had to be maintained. But not this Victorian London, no, they employed the young and penniless for the job. Lydia didn't mind much, she usually enjoyed her duties, but with all that had been happening recently, it was getting a bit too dangerous even for her and she was considering leaving. She wouldn't be the first; a good number of the other lamplighters had quit before her, and had been promptly replaced. But, even with the doubts nagging at her mind, Lydia still didn't really believe that she would actually quit, it was more one of those persistent fantasies that you entertain, but invariably discard.

Even though it had been weeks since the killings started and the police still had no clue who was behind it, Lydia kept coming back, evening after evening to light the lamps, and then every morning to put the candles out. She sometimes questioned her sanity, wondering if she actually enjoyed the job, or if she was addicted to the danger. Because every day that passed, the job seemed to get more and more dangerous. The killer was called Jack the Ripper, but he was actually a copycat, and had recently finished enacting the original Ripper's kills, so now he/she/they (for even the gender or number of murderers was indeterminate) had started making up their own script, and each new kill was twice as brutal as the last.

Lydia shivered as she thought of it, and finished lighting her very last lamp, sighing in relief. She carefully maneuvered the long pole with the already lit wick, careful not to break or burn anything, and when the last lamp was lit she put the lighting pole over one shoulder, and walked back to the shop.

Rosario Perez came from a long line of candle makers, or so he claimed, and owned the most well-known candle and lamp shop in the city. Providing light was his business, and he was better at it than just about anyone else in town. His shop provided a variety of services, from lamp repair and maintenance to selling the lamps themselves, as well as making candles, some of which were used in the town's lampposts. Because of his reputation, and his charisma, he had managed to get in the with the city officials, brokering a deal with them: he would provide candles for the city, as well as trained lamplighters, and the city would pay him generously, using his candles exclusively, helping him corner the market.

It was here, at Rosario Perez's shop, that Lydia gathered her tools, and instructions, every early morning and late evening; and it was here that she returned the tools when she was finished (the tools mostly included the long pole that she used to light the lamps, but occasionally she also had to polish the lamps or replace candles). Today as always, she dropped off the tools, collected her pay, and set off toward home. By now it was fully dark, the only light was that provided by the street lamps and the stars.

Lydia wondered if she could still be considered a street urchin, being seventeen and all, she felt a bit too old to be lumped in with children. But at the same time, she was still fairly young, and there was a saying: an urchin may leave the streets, but the streets will never leave the urchin, or something like that. Either way, Lydia felt the general meaning was oddly appropriate to her situation, and decided that she would wait until she was older to stop being a street urchin. She continued walking along the nighttime paths, the silence itself was absolute, and she was becoming increasingly uncomfortable in the ominous darkness.

As her walk continued, the night became inescapable; no thought could distract her from the darkness all around, not even thoughts of street urchins and lamplighters. She was acutely aware of her shallow breathing, the trickle of sweat down her back, the echo of her footsteps; the emptiness of it all. It was just her and the night (and possibly the killer). There should be people out, it wasn't that late, but with a murderer on the loose even the bravest of night owls were staying in.

And then she saw it, standing offensively in front of her, an unlit lamp. She cursed under her breath at the careless fool that had neglected to light it; the coward, he or she had probably overlooked it in their haste to go home. She walked over to the tall metal post, looking up at the empty glass above her. She felt that it was her duty to light it, but she didn't know how. She knew that she had some leftover flint in her pocket, but without the means to reach the candle, a flame on its own would be useless. She decided to get a better view of the situation: stepping back as far as she could and looking for a way up to the glass casing. There wasn't anything of use.

She heaved a resigned sigh and was about to leave when she heard footsteps approaching. _Just a casual passerby_, she told herself, _a brave pedestrian, someone on business perhaps, nothing more._ But no matter what she told herself, the fear wouldn't leave, it gripped her in its terrible claws and refused to let go. After all, how many people were walking around with a murderer on the loose? The only sure exception would be the murderer…

She cautiously pressed her back to the building behind her and quietly slunk along its length, making her way into the pitch black alley beside it. She knew that the fear was irrational, that in all probability the person walking wasn't the murderer, but she still couldn't help but breathe a silent sigh of relief when she heard the footsteps pass a few moments later. She leaned against the wall, letting her head fall back onto the cold bricks for a moment, closing her eyes and waiting for her heartbeat to return to normal. A drop of rain fell on her cheek, and she decided that it would be best if she hurried home.

She opened her eyes and saw the blackness above her; a cloud had strayed overhead and blocked all the stars in the sky, all the light. She sighed and pushed off against the wall. The cloud passed and dim, silver light filled the alley. Lydia looked up to the sky and thanked the heavens for their small blessing. Then another drop of rain fell on her cheek, and then another on her chin. Something strange occurred to her: the cloud had passed, leaving no source for the droplets. She craned her neck back farther, looking for the source of the moisture, and found it.

There were two people hanging upside-down above her, tied by the ankles and strung between the buildings like a decoration, their arms reaching down stiffly, like children reaching for their parents after a fright. Except that these weren't children, and they weren't afraid, they were a couple, a man and a woman, and they were most certainly dead. Lydia stared up at the gruesome sight in shock, she couldn't move, she was paralyzed with fear and dread and horror. Another droplet fell onto her neck; the liquid sluiced slowly down the dead couple's arms and dripped off their fingertips to the pavement below. In the night, it was blacker than the darkness all around, it was liquid oblivion.

Lydia screamed. She couldn't help it, or stop it, or think of anything better to do. Her body had finally broken free of its spell, but her mind was still in a fearful stupor, and she couldn't think at all. She backed away from the bodies and clamped her hand over her mouth. Then she realized she was covered with blood, and she scrubbed furiously at her face with her sleeves, staining them with rust.

The sound of running footsteps quickly drew nearer, and for a moment a man was silhouetted in starlight, standing at the entrance of the alley. Lydia panicked, running in the opposite direction. An inhuman growl stopped her in her tracks, it was right in front of her, she was trapped. She backed up slowly, still covering her mouth. As she spun around, something gripped her arm and she screamed again, hitting her attacker with fists and feet, all of which were useless. Then a hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her.

"Shh," the man whispered, "I don't want to hurt you, I'm trying to help"

The growl got louder, and closer; it echoed off the empty city, menacing and dreadful, carrying the promise of a sudden, violent end.

"What's that?" the man asked, looking toward the sound, fear creeping onto his face, which Lydia believed was genuine. Lydia looked up at the man, shaking her head, echoing his confusion.

"Let's get out of here," the man whispered, and Lydia nodded, both of them ran away from the source of the growling

"Who are you?" Lydia asked, in between steps

"Peter Ness, and you?"

"Lydia"

"Nice to meet you," he said, looking over his shoulder at her, and giving his best, winning smile.  
>The flickering lamplights illuminated his features with a heavenly light: his strawberry blond hair seemed to be a halo around his head, and his pale, narrow features were almost angelic.<p>

"You really think now's the time for that?" Lydia said in her most deadpan, snarky voice.  
>She was perfectly aware of how plain she was, with her mousy brown hair and simple, commonplace features. She didn't have to be reminded by a stranger whilst running for her life.<p>

"Maybe not, but if I'm going to die, I'd like to charm a beautiful lady first," Peter replied

"Oh shut up," Lydia said, feeling her cheeks go hot, "This way," she said, running in front of Peter and pulling him after her

"Where are we going?" he asked

"I know someone who can help"

"The police?"

"No, better," she said, smiling wickedly, "A bloke called Sherlock Holmes"


	3. The Entertainment Trap

"Doctor, why do we have to wear fancy dress, I thought we were going to the future?" Clara asked, skeptically looking at the Victorian dresses in front of her

"My mother **was** always saying that fashion is a cycle," Gage added, also looking dubiously at the period clothing

"What unusual clothing…" Siv'Irai commented, staring at the foreign styles. In her culture, women and men all wore the same things: robes, or tunics and pants, all of which were rather loose, and not at all form fitting or flattering. She wasn't sure how she felt about this change.

"We **are** going to the future," the Doctor answered, "But the signal I got from Peter indicated that he was in a Niche Community, a Victorian era London one, to be precise"

"Niche Community?" Clara asked

"Yes, or NC for short" the Doctor said, explaining, "Sometime in the future humanity gets all nostalgic for the past, in a bad way. They establish what they call 'Niche Communities', which are fanciful, often romanticized, recreations of past periods. They have strict rules, one of which is that there's no advanced technology allowed… which is kind of ironic because they employ quite sophisticated procedures to enforce this rule and keep the communities running. After all, they're usually set up in glass spaceships, complete with artificial weather (and gravity), holograms, and androids, etcetera"

"So we're going to a future recreation of Victorian London?" Gage asked, raising an eyebrow in a way that was somewhere between being amused and not being entirely convinced

"Yep, basically," the Doctor replied, smiling happily, oblivious, "Clara, they're pretty serious about their 'no technology' rule, you can't take your blaster, or sonic"

"What happens if we run into trouble?" Clara asked, annoyed, "You know we probably will"

"We solve it the old-fashioned way" the Doctor replied, not explaining what 'the old-fashioned way' meant

"Alright, but I'm not wearing a dress," Clara said, "There's no way to run in heels"

"That's perfectly fine, the Niche Communities define how someone is treated based on their clothing anyway. After all, it still is the future, well relatively speaking anyway. I'm getting in a bad habit of using a frame of reference for my time periods, I should stop that…" the Doctor said, her explanation quickly going off on a tangent as she continued talking

"So if I wore a dress I'd be treated like a girl?" Gage asked, skeptical

"These Niche Communities sound interesting," Clara said, ignoring the Doctor's rambling, "And dangerous…"

"Yup," the Doctor replied, smiling, to who she was responding wasn't clear, "Anyway, you should hurry up and pick out something to wear; we've got a Peter to save"

The girl went skipping away happily, humming to herself, and looking for something to wear. Her three companions looked at each other, and then in the direction the Doctor took, they still weren't used to her bizarre behavior, but they did as she said and looked through the racks of clothes for something appropriate.

* * *

><p>Somewhere in her unusual life, Clara had learned to favor practicality over fashion, but at one time she had been a very fashionable girl, and still a hint of that sensibility remained. Her outfit, as stated, was that of a gentleman, with the shoes, waistcoat, hat, and buttoned shirt to prove it. But she had chosen an outfit fitting her own fashionable sensibilities: the dark grey coat had an accent of shiny, bright green fabric sewn onto the inside of the coat so that when viewed from the right angle it could be seen, and she had also chosen a green bowtie instead of the gentleman's usual cravat.<p>

Siv and Gage weren't as daring as Clara, and they knew decidedly less about fashion or the Victorian Era, so they both stuck with un-substituted, mostly traditional clothing. Gage found an elegant brown suit that he thought would work, and Siv chose a purple dress.

Gage wondered if the Victorian Age had some form of spectacles, and as he thought about this, he absently pushed up his own glasses. He decided that he wasn't willing to give them up, even if the period didn't have glasses, or ones like his, with his terrible vision it just wasn't worth it. Besides, he always seemed to fit in, no matter where he went, or maybe it would be better described as blending into the background; his nondescript hazel eyes and messy brown hair were rather commonplace, and nothing about him really stood out or attracted attention.

Siv looked at herself in one of the full-length mirrors, marveling at the length and weight of the garment she was wearing. She wondered if she would fit in. She was a member of a psychic race of aliens after all, and she did have long white hair and a third eye. But she figured that as long as she wore one of the ridiculous hats natural to the time and kept her extra eye shut then there wouldn't be a problem. Keeping that eye closed would severely limit her psychic abilities though…

"Doctor! Are you ready to go?!" Clara called, wondering if she could even hear her in this incredibly large closet

"Hmm? What were you saying?" the Doctor asked, appearing just behind Clara, causing her to jump in surprise

"We were just wondering if you were ready…" Clara said, her sentence petering off as she saw the Doctor, "I thought you said Victorian?"

"Yep," the Doctor replied with an enthusiastic nod

"That isn't even remotely…" Clara started, but again her words just dropped off

"Eh, we're going to a future recreation of Victorian England, it's not like it's authentic or anything," the Doctor replied, waving off the criticism

The Doctor reached into her pocket and slid another hair pin into her wavy hair, which tended to be generally unruly, she now had a total of five pins holding her bangs back, and each stood out like a sore thumb against her stark white hair.

Recently she had regenerated into a short, young looking woman, but before she had been many things in her past (including a guy); she was a two thousand year old Time Lord after all, but for all that, she was still dressed rather anachronistically. Her black shirt had a collar, cuffed sleeves, and was buttoned up to her throat, which was partly obscured by a stylish, white jabot. But this nod to traditional fashions was paired with slick black leggings and metal studded ankle boots, as well as an asymmetrical, black, gothic style skirt that was distinctly futuristic and decidedly longer than modern day trends.

"You know, I really like this look," she said, spinning on one foot, "I think I'll keep it"

* * *

><p>They stepped out of the Tardis. It was a pleasant spring day in Victorian London.<p>

"Wow," Gage said, looking at the dark labyrinth in front of him, cold and somber in a way that no part of 21st century New Mexico could ever know, "So this is what Victorian England was like"

"Will be like," the Doctor corrected

"This is the future after all" Clara added

"Ugh, the smell, it's vile," Siv said, covering her nose

"They may have gone a bit overboard with the simulation," the Doctor agreed, also covering her nose, "But no worries, you'll get used to it, after a couple minutes you won't be able to smell anything at all"

"Or ever again," Gage added

"We'll survive" Clara stated, walking off down the alley. The Doctor followed behind her, and then, with a shrug, Gage and Siv followed after them.

Outside the alley people bustled about, going on with their daily work in a very convincing fashion. In the streets below, carriages trundled past, drawn by real, living horses, and driven by darkly clad drivers.

"What is that?" Siv asked, pointing at a horse

"That's a horse," Gage explained

"Or a reasonable facsimile thereof," the Doctor added

"Wha-?" Gage began, but Clara cut him off

"They're not real," she said

"How can you tell?" he asked

"Look," she said, gesturing around them, "The streets are too clean. Real horses leave a mess, and no street cleaners are this good."  
>"Bingo!" the Doctor said, patting Clara on the head and laughing happily, and no one could tell if she was praising or reprimanding her, or being just plain crazy, "Of course she's right though. They're actually robotic recreations of horses. A lot less temperamental than the real thing, and less messy too"<p>

"But if it wasn't the horses we smelled earlier, what was it?" Gage asked

"The people," the Doctor explained, "Plus, I imagine we're close to a market"  
>"A market? Like a mall?" Gage asked<p>

"No," the Doctor said, "What you would call a 'mall' would be roughly the equivalent of a bazaar, indoors and all. No, what I'm talking about is a market: outdoors, dirty; you know, the works"

"Oh," Gage replied, filing away the information for future reference

"I wonder, what's going on over there?" Siv mused, looking off to the side at a point further down the street

The Doctor, Clara, and Gage all turned toward the direction Siv was looking at; there was a crowd gathered so thickly that no casual observer could see what the commotion was about.

"Can't you read their minds?" the Doctor asked

Siv shook her head, no, "There are too many of them, I can't single out a single person. I just sense general curiosity and... fear… or horror. But that doesn't seem right"

"We'll work on that," the Doctor said, making a mental note to give Siv a crash course in telepathy, "Why don't we check out what's going on? I'd bet it's something interesting," and she walked off toward the crowd, leaving her companions to follow

She made her way through the people, no one even gave her a moment's notice. And there, in the center of the crowd, was the cause: police officers bustled about, barring anyone's entrance into the alley behind them, but the onlookers could still see the gruesome picture painted inside the dark passage.

"What's happened?" Clara asked, coming up behind the Doctor

"Murder, murder most foul," the Doctor replied

"Oh, God," Gage said as the scene came into his view, he stood behind the two girls in front of him, and covered his mouth, looking away from the gore

"Who could do something like this?" Siv asked, looking a bit faint

"You mean, you don't know?" a bystander replied, having heard her question

Siv shook her head, and the man continued, "'Twas the Ripper, he's struck again"

"The Ripper, as in Jack the Ripper?" Gage said, equally amazed and horrified

"Is there any other one?" the man said

"Well, the one that happened in the past" Gage replied

"Naw, this one'll put that to shame. He's already gone beyond the original, and there isn't any sign of him stopping"

"Why don't the authorities get involved?" the Doctor asked, then, realizing her question, amended, "I mean, the real authorities, back in the outside world, with all their technology. I know this is a Niche community, but considering the circumstances I think they could intervene. They could even shut this whole thing down"

"You mean you don't know?" the man asked, when the Doctor shook her head, he continued, "If you ever get out of here, you should have some harsh words with your travel agent. They've sent you to EC-146; the rules here are far different."

"You don't mean we're in…" the Doctor began

"Right, you get it now," the man said, then, taking one last look at the crime scene, he turned around and started pushing his way through the people, "Well, best of luck to 'ya" he said in farewell, tipping his hat at them and then vanishing into the crowd

"What did he mean?" Gage asked

"Doctor, what's going on?" Clara asked

"It means that we're in trouble," the Doctor said with a sigh, "You see, usually these Niche Communities are a short vacation from the real world. People elect to go to them, role-play, follow their rules, and get any violence or crime out of their system, since the period's detective work and technology is rather crude. The people in early utopias weren't entirely enlightened and needed an outlet for their violent impulses, and this was it. Afterwards the visitors would just leave. But not this one, this is one of the Entertainment Communities. They're a subset of the Niche Communities; people enter, or more often are forced, into one and they can't leave until they pay their way out through audience favor"

"Audience favor?" Siv asked

"Yes, there are cameras everywhere, being edited and fed to the outside world via intelligent computer programs. Then, the viewing audience can award points to the participants in the Entertainment Communities; each audience member is given one point daily to spend, and each participant usually needs about five hundred points to leave"

"Five hundred points?!" Gage said, "How do they ever get out?"

"Often, they don't," the Doctor said

"Doctor," Clara began, a note of urgency in her voice, "You said that there are cameras everywhere, and they don't allow technology to enter or people to leave"

"Yes…?"

"What about the Tardis!" Clara turned on her heel and pushed her way frantically through the crowd.

"Clara, you are a genius!" the Doctor exclaimed, following close behind

Horror went through Gage and Siv as they came to the same realization, and thought about its implications. They pushed through the crowd and ran full tilt towards the Tardis.

Clara stood in the alleyway, looking in frustration at the displaced dirt that told of the ship's recent presence. It was gone, the Tardis was gone.

"But how?" Siv asked, "We were just here!"

"They probably took it right after we left the alley" Clara said

"What will they do with it?" Gage asked

"Hold it, until we've bought our freedom," the Doctor explained, looking dejectedly down at the square shaped impression in the dirt

"But they have to know that this is a mistake!" Gage said, "We didn't know about their rules!"

"No, but they don't care about that," the Doctor said, "What matters to them is that we're in their territory now, and so we have to follow their rules"

"What do we do?" Clara asked

"We could find a way to earn enough points to get the Tardis back," Siv suggested

"And just how do we do that?" Clara asked, "We don't have weapons, or money, or even our sonics!"

The Doctor smiled, a look of sly determination sliding into place. It was the kind of expression that slowly creeps onto someone's face and makes others think twice about messing with that person; the unnerving smile of the truly insane.

"We catch Jack the Ripper" the Doctor said


	4. Ripper in the Night

Peter and Lydia walked through the evening streets; it had been hours since Peter had come face to face with Sherlock Holmes, and agreed to help him. And now they were on the job again. Lydia had been working for Mr. Holmes all along, she was one of his Baker Street Irregulars, and her job as a lamplighter just gave her access to the streets and the information they held; it was a means to an end, and it made her invaluable.

Not all the people in a Niche held jobs, and not all the jobs in a Niche were held by people, in fact, most of the workforce consisted of convincing androids run by artificial intelligence programs, and in other, friendlier Niches, people often only held jobs fleetingly, and for their own amusement. But in this Niche, where entertainment was law, most of its living citizens held some kind of occupation: it was another way to earn Niche Community credits, and gave them necessary currency to spend in the Niche.

But no, EC-146 was not one of the nicer Niches to spend ones time in, and most of its citizens were here involuntarily; mostly they were human, but occasionally Peter saw an alien unlucky enough to be caught in the Niche trap. Some of the aliens were indistinguishable from humans, but somehow Lydia could tell the difference and she sometimes pointed one out to Peter; more often, however, the aliens looked completely foreign and were easy to spot in a crowd (brightly colored skin, spikes, tails, wings, and other appendages tended to stick out).

"What about that guy?" Peter asked, pointing to a burly looking fellow with an unearthly beard

"Nope, he's human" Lydia replied

"Human, really?" Peter said, "I've never seen a man that large or a beard that long, or that… red"

"Yeah, isn't it funny, a long time ago it was a popular belief that redheads would die out, now look at 'em, they're practically the most popular hair color… well, next to pink, for some reason"

"Pink, you mean that girl's hair was natural?" Peter asked, thinking he must surely be wrong

"Yeah, why not?" Lydia replied, "What? You look surprised."

"Well, it's just… pink isn't a natural hair color, is it? Well at least, it wasn't, back where I'm from"

"Don't you mean, 'when' you're from?"

"Oh right, Mr. Holmes deduced I was a time-traveler, didn't he? I forgot"

"Yeah, he's the sharpest man in the galaxy. It's hard to get anything by him"

A moment of awkward silence passed between them, and Peter wasn't really sure what he had done wrong, or what had caused it. After more awkwardness, he decided to fill the hole.

"So, is pink really a natural hair color now?" Peter asked, "How did that happen?"

"Genetic engineering," Lydia answered, "All hair colors are natural now, eye colors too. And if you don't like yours, you can change it, permanently and no problem, and then it'll be natural too"

"I think we have a very different idea of 'natural'" Peter commented

"Yeah, you're from the 20th…" Lydia began

"21st" Peter supplied

"Right, 21st century. I'd expect our ideas to be different" Lydia said, "Now, I know you're an old-timer and all, but do you mind helping me out?"

"Oh right, I forgot. What was it we were supposed to be doing?" Peter asked

"Ugh, you're hopeless," Lydia said, but answered him anyway, "I'm gonna be walking around, lighting lamps, you're gonna go to the rooftops and keep watch. We'll both be on the lookout for anything suspicious, and if you see anything call out. Don't worry, the rooftops are usually close enough for you to jump from on to the other, especially in downtown London. And some of the other Irregulars already set up ladders on some of the buildings along my route so you can get up and down"

"Okay, but…"

"Well, go on then," Lydia interrupted, "We haven't got all night"

"How does Mr. Holmes know that the Ripper will strike again tonight, didn't he just kill two people last night?" Peter asked, blurting out his question

"Yeah, but Mr. Holmes figures that he's gonna be impatient to kill again. And he'll do so the very first chance he gets," Lydia said, "So let's go, we don't want this guy, or woman, or whatever, to get ahead of us"

"I can see how the Ripper getting the drop on us would be a bad thing" Peter said, and moved to the nearest building with a ladder, cautiously climbing up the thin wooden frame until he was crouched on the roof with a clear view of Lydia and the surrounding area. He could just make out a couple walking along the sidewalk further down the street.

Peter watched as Lydia lit the lamps, going from one to the next, carefully illuminating the glass containers and filling the area around them with light. Peter would move from one rooftop to the next so he could follow Lydia's progress and not leave her without an extra set of eyes. Everything was going smoothly, no sign of the Ripper, and both of them were beginning to think that Holmes was wrong, that the Ripper wouldn't strike again this night, or that if he did, it wouldn't be close enough for them to witness.

Lydia lit another lamp.

"What 'cha doin'?" a chipper voice asked from just behind him, so close that he nearly jumped out of his skin, and off the roof

"Uh? Who are you?!" Peter asked, turning around, he came face to face with a young, white-haired girl

"I asked you first" she said, stubbornly

"We're trying to find Jack the Ripper," Peter said, motioning towards Lydia on the street below, "I'm Peter Ness and that's Lydia. And you are?"

"I'm the Doctor," she said, her cheerfulness apparently not faltering even in the face of Peter's annoyance and suspicion, "And we're looking for the Ripper too"

"We?" Peter asked

"Yep, me and a few friends," she said, "… You're Peter Ness…?"

"Yes, I just said that" Peter replied, confused, thinking she may be a bit slow; she did call herself a doctor, and he did find that hard to believe

"No, no, no. Not just Peter Ness, **the** Peter Ness" she replied, clapping her hands and bouncing up and down in her spot, "Found you!"

"Found me?" Peter asked, "What do you mean?"

"I'm with Gage," she answered, "We came here to find you and take you back home"

"Gage? Home?" Peter responded, "How?"

"Long story, but first we have to catch the Ripper so we can get out of this place," she replied, "Oh… uh-oh, I think your friend may be in danger," she pointed past Peter's shoulder to the street below

A man was dragging Lydia away into an alleyway, covering her mouth so she couldn't scream, though she appeared to be struggling to get free, his strength was too much for her to escape.

"LYDIA!" Peter yelled, his voice carried across London, the man abducting Lydia stopped for a moment, surprised, he looked up to where Peter was standing on the rooftop. In the nighttime gloom, he was nothing more than a featureless figure.

There was the sound of a growl again, tearing through the night. But in this empty business district, no one was around to hear it, except for the group facing Jack the Ripper. The sound was so close, the Doctor turned, her hearts pounding in her chest, a drop of sweat dripped across her temple.

There was someone standing at the far end of the roof, having climbed up the same ladder, the only ladder, and this being a corner building; there was nowhere else to go. The nearest buildings were either blocked by the man, or too far away to jump, they were trapped.

The Ripper walked closer, pulling his arm back, the motion causing the chainsaw in his hand to growl even louder. He was wearing a top hat, cloak, and gloves, everything else was masked by shadow.

"Peter," the Doctor said, patting his arm to get his attention, he didn't even turn around, his attention fixed on Lydia, the Doctor pulled at his sleeve, "Peter!"

"What?!" Peter snapped, turning around, he froze as he saw the man slowly walking towards them. No need to rush, after all, they weren't going anywhere. "What…?" Peter repeated, at a loss

"We have to jump," the Doctor said, her voice eerily calm in the deadly circumstances

"We're four stories up! We'll die!" Peter exclaimed

"If we don't then we're dead anyway," she replied with a shrug, then smiled devilishly, "Just make sure to aim for the trees!" and she grabbed his hand and jumped off the roof, pulling Peter along with her

* * *

><p>Clara ran through London, chasing after the Ripper, who had an unconscious girl thrown over his shoulder, but was still managing to run incredibly fast. She hoped that Siv and Gage were keeping up, because she wasn't sure that she could take this man down alone, he seemed to have unnatural abilities. It took all of Clara's speed to just keep up with him; she couldn't even spare a backward glance to see if her companions were still there, and it was impossible to know where the Doctor was.<p>

She ran into an alley, the Ripper just in front of her, and she stopped cold. It was empty, except for one unconscious girl slumped against the alley wall. Had the Ripper just dumped her there, after all he went through to keep her? Something wasn't right. Clara's instincts screamed 'trap!', she unconsciously reached for her sidearm, but of course it wasn't there.

Instead, she decided to search the area, make sure the Ripper was truly gone, and then get the girl. It was risky, it could be the Ripper's scheme all along: have Clara leave the area, and thus the girl, then collect the girl when Clara wasn't around. Clara wasn't even sure if the girl was still alive, he could have killed her long ago, but it was the only thing Clara could do, after all, she wanted to catch the Ripper, and she couldn't very well just leave the girl like this.

She slowly backed away from the alley, keeping her eyes on the dark, lightless path, searching for signs of movement, of danger. Then there was a heavy *Thump* and a cracking pain. _Something hit me on the head_, she thought, in a daze. She put her hand to the back of her head and it came away sticky and red, she looked at it in confusion, vaguely wondering what it was. Her legs wobbled, and then she fell to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

><p>"Where could they be?" Siv asked, looking around<p>

"We lost them" Gage commented, also looking around, "It must have happened when we crossed that street earlier," he kicked at a stray pebble in the street, frustrated

"Can't you sense anything?" he asked

Siv shook her head, "No, there was something… off about him"

"Off?" Gage asked

"Yes, like he was shrouded in fog. His thoughts were elusive, like they weren't fully formed, or were somehow masked, and I could barely sense his presence," Siv replied, "He was more like a phantom than any person I've ever met"

"And Clara?" Gage asked

"She was moving around too quickly to get a lock on, but I know we headed in the same general direction. Now though, I can't sense her at all"

"I wonder what happened," Gage said, kicking over another, larger stone

"Perhaps we should return to the Doctor," Siv suggested

"Yeah, if anyone can make sense of this, I think it's her," Gage replied, he paused, behind him he heard a faint whispering, "It looks like we're not alone," he said

Siv turned around also, looking for the third party Gage had mentioned.

The whispering grew more intense; the sound coming closer; the indistinct voices angry and threatening in the dark night.

"Where are they coming from?" Gage asked, anxiously turning from side to side

"Where is what coming from?" Siv asked

"The whispering," Gage replied, seeing the look on her face, "Don't tell me you can't hear that!?"

"No," Siv replied, shaking her head, confused, "Gage, are you alright?" she asked. When she turned her telepathy on him, she sensed a growing panic and dread, it was like a giant hand was clutching his heart, but she still didn't know what was causing it.

"Gage… Gage!" Siv yelled as Gage fell to the ground, and lay unmoving. She covered her ears, looking around for whatever was responsible for this, but there was nothing there, only shadows.

She knew something had to be causing this, but there were no signs to indicate what it was or what it was after. Siv didn't even know if Gage was still alive, but she didn't dare uncover her ears, fearing that whatever had done that to him would go after her next. All she knew was that Gage had heard whispering before passing out, so she figured that part of the creature's power was in sound.

And then she heard the whispering too. Even with her ears covered, the sound still came through, like it was bypassing her ears altogether and going straight into her brain. Her heart pounded in her chest, beating so wildly it felt like a flailing lava bug (a creature native to her home planet that was a notoriously bad swimmer and could occasionally be found drowning).

She pressed her palms harder over her ears, and focused with all her might on blocking out the murderous presence around her. She felt her legs collapse beneath her as she fell to her knees, still futilely clutching her head. Her vision blurred, her head felt like it was being crushed, and she felt tears streaming down her face.

There, further down the alley, she could just make out the faintest silhouette of someone… or some creature…


	5. Apologizing to Sherlock Holmes

Peter was screaming, he wasn't even aware that he was doing it. The wind rushed past him and the ground rushed towards him. He was falling, he was certain he was going to die. The girl next to him threw her hands up in the air (one hand still holding his), and laughed, the sound was somewhere between glee, exhilaration, and utter madness. Needless to say, Peter was afraid.

Then there was the snapping, cracking, crumbling, breaking, of tree limbs; a thousand dashes of pain whipping across his skin; and then a sudden, jolting stop. The dirt hit him like a truck, jolting his body down to his very bones. And for a moment he just lay there, unable to breathe, his whole body aching, he was certain that something was broken.

The Doctor jumped up, pumping her fists into the air and screaming in delight.

"Wooo! Let's do that again!" she yelled

"Let's… not…" Peter gasped, still lying on the ground, finding himself unable to move

"Come on Petes, time to get up," she said,

"It's Peter…"

"Right, whatever you say, Petes," she replied, "Anyway, there's a killer with a chainsaw after us, so there's no time for naps!" she said, grabbing him by the hand and hauling him to his feet, his body creaked and groaned in protest

"Don't worry, nothing's broken. You've just got the wind knocked out of you is all" she said, giving him the once over, and then pulling him by the hand away from the building

"Lydia…" Peter managed to say

"Don't worry, my friends are on the job. They've probably cornered the second Ripper and have 'im in custody as we speak," she replied, "But anyway, let's follow their trail and lend a hand" she walked off down the alley, looking intently at the ground, and still holding onto Peter's hand

They followed the minute trails left by the Ripper and the Doctor's companions until they came to a fork.

"They split up," the Doctor commented, kneeling on the ground so she could get a closer look at the traces

"What happened?" Peter asked

"Impossible to tell, as of yet," she replied, "But, my guess is that Gage and Siv, who were some distance behind Clara, took a wrong turn. Clara was close enough to the Ripper to continue the chase"

"Then what do we do now?"

"We start with Clara and the Ripper, and hope that it isn't over yet"

They followed the trail to its conclusion, where three people seemed to have met up, and where an additional four people were presumed to have been present, and likely bound, unconscious, or rendered otherwise immobile.

"How can you tell all that?" Peter asked, looking at the ground, all he saw was a mess of footprints, a few scuffs, and some drops of blood

"There are four different tracks. Two are humanoid, both of which are footprints, indicating that they were able-bodied and from their positioning, they weren't restrained or threatened. The first is from the Ripper Clara was chasing, but his footsteps are significantly deeper than those we followed to here, indicating that he was carrying both Clara and your friend Lydia," the Doctor explained, indicating a shoeprint in the ground

"The second pair of feet is lighter, unencumbered, and is likely the Ripper that we faced. And that's where things get weird" the Doctor said, then paused thoughtfully, putting a finger to her lower lip

"Weird, how?" Peter asked

"The other two tracks were made by people being dragged, likely Gage and Siv, but there isn't any sign of who, or what, did the dragging," the Doctor said, "And then it goes even further, because, right in this spot, they disappear. Poof, no trace, just gone"

"But that's impossible!" Peter exclaimed, "People can't just vanish… can they?"

"No, there's definitely a cause. I just don't know what it is yet," the Doctor said, then shook her head, as though she was a dog shedding water from its pelt, "Anyway, we should check and make sure that it really is Siv and Gage missing, it would be a shame to just have them wandering aimlessly around London"

"A shame…?" Peter echoed, he wasn't sure that was the right choice of words for the situation

They followed the tracks once more, circling back until they found the spot where they had first diverged.

"It's them," the Doctor confirmed

"The Rippers have them," Peter said, "What will they do to them?"

The Doctor shook her head, she didn't know. She didn't know anything, and it was incredibly frustrating. A part of her couldn't help but think that if any of her past selves had been here instead, then this wouldn't have happened. Even though she only recalled vague shadows and fleeting glimpses of her past, she still had an impression of the twelve men that had preceded her, and next to them she felt immature and inept, even though she was supposed to be the oldest. They had saved universes. She couldn't even keep her friends safe.

"Oh well, I'm sure they'll be fine," the Doctor said, waving off the past like an annoying fly and putting on a big, cheerful smile, "They're a smart group, they'll be… fine…"

"You said fine twice" Peter noticed

"Yeah, because they'll be doubly fine," the Doctor answered

"I don't think that's how it works" Peter said

"It is too. Just you wait and see, they'll be… fine"

"Right. Fine. So how do we find them?" Peter asked, "Or rather, how do we find them in time?"

"…. I don't… know… exactly…" the Doctor said, the words felt painful, like by uttering them she was committing a betrayal, "… I think we may need help…"

She knew there wasn't anything wrong in needing help, everyone needed help from time to time, it was nothing to be ashamed of. And yet… and yet, she was. She was deeply humiliated by the admission.

"We'll need someone clever, observant, cunning, someone who knows the area and will be able to put all the pieces together… you don't happen to know anyone like that, do you?" the Doctor asked, hopeful, despite the absurdity of the request, a part of her suspected that he did know someone just like that. After all, what were he and Lydia doing, hunting the Ripper like that? Unless, of course, they were working for someone, someone clever and connected, someone that was collecting information on the Ripper. And the Doctor did have a sneaky suspicion who that someone was.

"Actually, I do know someone like that!" Peter exclaimed, his face brightening with new hope, "Lydia was working for Sherlock Holmes, and apparently he's the most perceptive man in the galaxy. That sounds kind of odd, saying it like that, but nonetheless, Lydia believed it was true"

"Right now, we can only hope that it is," the Doctor said, "Now, take me to Sherlock Holmes"

* * *

><p>They arrived at 221B Baker Street sometime later and were greeted by a kindly woman who appeared to be in her sixties, and who could only be Mrs. Hudson.<p>

"Mrs. Hudson" Peter confirmed, nodding his head in greeting

"Oh Peter, you're back. Did it go alright? I know Holmes has a bad habit of putting people in danger, especially himself," Mrs. Hudson said, "Hmm, where's Lydia?" she asked, and then noticed the Doctor, "And who is she?"

"Ah, this is the Doctor," Peter said, "And, um, we really do need to talk with Mr. Holmes. It's urgent"

"Very well then, come in," Mrs. Hudson said, a question burning in her eyes, but for once she didn't dare voice it, instead she pleasantly ushered her guests inside and led them to the room where Holmes waited

"Come in," a voice answered in response to Mrs. Hudson's knock

They stepped into a room of organized chaos: a place for everything and everything in its place, just not the place anyone expected it to be. For instance, there were several letters stuck into the wood above the fireplace by a knife, and the Doctor noticed the leaves of some unidentifiable plant sticking out of a slipper lying on the floor.

Seated comfortably in their respective chairs were Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson, figures of myth and legend lounging around in the flesh. Anyone who was familiar with the stories would instantly recognize them; they were very accurate recreations, to the point that many considered this incarnation of the duo to be the true Holmes and Watson. And, looking at them, the Doctor found it hard to disagree; after all, the originals had been stories, but these men were alive, in some ways they were more real than the originals.

"Ah, Peter, you've returned," Holmes said, his excitement clear in every small movement. Of course it was Holmes: tall and gaunt with piercing eyes and dark hair, who else could it be? "But where is Lydia?"

"Yes, and who the devil is she?" Watson asked; he really wasn't one to mince words, and from the start he didn't trust the Doctor. Still, Watson was just as recognizable as Holmes: slightly shorter and definitely fuller figured, he also had his iconic mustache and proper gentleman's haircut.

"Mr. Holmes I…" Peter began, but he didn't know how to finish that statement, or rather couldn't bring himself to. He knew that it was his fault, all of it, if he hadn't been distracted then the Ripper wouldn't have snuck up on Lydia and captured her, leading to the capture of Gage and the other friends of the Doctor. And he was struck by a sudden realization: if anything happened to them, if they died, then it would be his fault. The words froze on his lips, half formed.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor," she cut in, introducing herself with improbable cheer. Her feelings were pretty much identical to Gage's, but she was quite a bit better at hiding them. "And I'm sorry, Lydia and my friends were captured by the Rippers. It was my fault," …so maybe she wasn't as great at hiding her thoughts as she believed she was; this incarnation of her certainly had a penchant for blunt honesty.

"What?!" Watson exclaimed

"What happened?" Holmes asked, his eyes burned with a painful remorse that only the keenly observant (and Watson) could detect

"Well, you see…" the Doctor explained everything that happened, from her meeting with Peter and their rooftop escape to them following the tracks that told a grim tale before abruptly ending

"Holmes, what could this mean?" Watson asked

Holmes didn't answer; instead he continued staring straight ahead, deep in thought, trying to work the pieces of the puzzle together.

Watson's gaze fixed on the Doctor, something didn't feel right about this young girl, she was more than she seemed, and he got the feeling that she was dangerous. She obviously knew more than she was letting on, information that could potentially save lives, not to mention the fact that if she hadn't interrupted, it was entirely probable that Lydia wouldn't have been taken. No, this Doctor was suspicious, and Watson had always been a man of action… he pulled down the sword hanging in its sheath on the wall, and before anyone could react, he pointed its polished end at the Doctor's throat.

"Who are you and what are you after?" Watson asked

"I'm the Doctor and I want to get my friends back" she replied

"Doctor who?" he questioned

"No," she said, putting her finger to the blade, "Just the Doctor," and she gently pushed the sword away

"Why did you interfere? What do you want with the Ripper?" he asked

"Well, firstly it's 'Rippers', plural, and secondly, my friends and I were accidentally trapped in this Niche, so I figured the quickest way to escape would be to catch the Rippers," she explained

"And yeah, I messed up, and this is my fault," she continued, "I just saw someone on the roof, thought it was suspicious, and decided to check it out. I didn't know there were multiple Rippers or that they would choose that moment to strike, and I definitely didn't know that my actions would mess everything up even worse"

"It astounds me," Watson commented, "That you can so thoroughly answer a question while evading its core truths"

"Oh, you mean I've missed the main points?" the Doctor replied, smiling apologetically, "Sorry about that"

"More importantly, shouldn't we be thinking of a way to find Lydia, Gage, and the others?" Peter interrupted before the situation could escalate further

The Doctor nodded emphatically, wholeheartedly agreeing. And Watson, seeing that he wasn't going to get suitable answers, learn more about this suspicious woman, or improve the situation, grudgingly put his sword back and regained his seat. Holmes was still sitting in his usual position, deep in thought, and had apparently taken no notice of what had just occurred.

Mrs. Hudson, for anyone curious, was standing just outside the door, listening in; it would've been bad manners to stay without being first invited, but she was curious (and worried) about what had happened to Lydia: she had seemed like such a sweet girl, and brave too. It really would be a shame if anything happened to her.


End file.
